eorlings

Got m'self all ready to say m'piece. I ain't happy about it all, no I ain't not at all. Haven't seen the others for weeks; Gyth, Wine ... even Bawde. Tho' I wouldn't say I missed Bawde to his sour face. Gyth's bloody Burnt Man is running my arse ragged - first it was all that diggin', now I'm up past the Trestle Bridge seems like every few weeks, running around fer Him like I'm one of his damn servants. Well, I aint! And thats what I was set ter tell Him.

a fat coney! And ... a bag of silver pennies! A good day, a fine day, a wit-filled day! I come up over Archet seein' to the snares, and there is the helm-man and three slouchy shady folk. Heh... I dursn't realise he was one o' a gang a theives. They'm standing around, spyin' on the village. Stupid stonelendings, nothin' in Archet worth havin'. Iffen there were ... I'd've sold it back to 'em.

Wine were being a bit odd last night. Him and me, Gyth an' Bawde stayed at the Combe yestereve. beer aint much better than before, mind you. Felt like i was back home at one point ... this man comes in all quiet, thought he were deaf for a while cos he wouldn't say much. then he ups and starts talkin' ... eorl's titties! He was a bloomin' mearc's man! Lucky an' all that he did start talkin' cos I had m' best dice out and was ready to fleece the bloody wealas iffen he'd been daft enough ter play with me.

Kicking m' heels in Bree. Gyth's Burnt Man ain't finished yet. Feh. He gives me one o' His looks and affore I realise it I'm saying yes, I'll be back tomorrow. So here's me, sitting with a flat pint o' ale with no coin fer much fun, while he sits warm an' well fed in the Word-horde.

Rode my new horse ter Bree! Feh, stinks as bad as ever, that place. Had ter tell Him what I'd been a'doin' an' give Him what I found. Even if he cleans them up I don' see it being worth much. Still, 'taint fer me to tell Him His business, eh? He jus' looks at me, nodded His head and shoves the lot in a bag. The He says 'what have you seen? who have you met? what did you take? ...' He goes on an' on fer hours, never lettin' me sit down an' never givin' me a drink or nothin'.

I'm going to call her 'Chance', an' a pretty little mare she is. Odd, I was expecting a wealas horse to be no better than a spavinned nag. P'raps these wealas aint such bad judges o' horseflesh after all. A hard night's work an' all, but Gyth and Wine did what I asked 'em, tho' I thought it was all up when that interferring bloody old giffer Eadbald strides up. Helm's Huge and Hairy Horn ! where did the old fool come from? I thought we'd lost him down by the dishwater inn, now he turns up in the north as though its just a day later. Feh...

Pft. I dursn't see what Gyth is seeing in 'em. Wealas men. She's fluttering her eyes at them like there's no good men in the Mearc. iffen I was Bawde I'd give her a good slap. Heh... put Wine's nose out o' joint though. He's looking as pale as a greensick lass seein' Gyth swooning at these bloody northerners.

now... there's big talk amongst them Bree folc about some eorl of theirs getting wed. Which is news, given that most of the bree folc jus' up and swap lasses like the town was just some big whorehouse. Iffen they aint out killin' each other instead. eh. never such a place for misery and blood, that Bree... miserable wealas

i got m'coin all stolen in that Pony. All done afore my eyes an' all... so I aint complainin'... done well too, it was. Olver, Wolt and that Rose lass, they cleaned me out proper. Heh. still, Olvar kept buying the ale... so I reckon I drank more coin than i actually lost. An' he bought me a room too. So... in truth, I won! I wager they wished they'd worked on a lass with more coin, though. I suppose I played cos i was bored, interestin' to see what tricks they were using.